|I love you . . .
||[May. 8th, 2016|01:49 am]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
. . . is the only excuse I can come up with. I can't look at you without smiling. I love your eyebrows that slant down ever so slightly and make you look a little sad until you look up, and then they just radiate mischief. And your pouty mouth---excuse me, "whiskey mouth," like the Cars song---you still hate the guy who said you had a "pouty mouth." And the gently aquiline nose you're not that fond of. I love your nose. It's you. And you're it. You wouldn't be believable with a button nose. Every shred of believability would flee with your nose should it ever change. You are an exquisite package: beautiful and fun and smart and complete. Just let it be, OK?